Chapter 49: Have a good trip…

Ester’s room was silent, except for the muffled sound of her suitcase being closed. The folds of heavy, dark clothing were organized with military precision. Each item was carefully stored, as if this simple act of packing was her way of keeping her mind occupied and not giving in to the chaos seething within.

She pulled the metal latch, locking the suitcase, and let out a long, almost exhausted sigh. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and her red eyes stared at the reflection in the mirror opposite. Her pale skin betrayed sleepless nights; subtle dark circles marred her face, which, no matter how hard she tried to steel herself, betrayed fatigue.

“At least…” she murmured to herself, her voice low, icy, but filled with bitter irony. “At least on this trip… maybe I can sleep.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. The images came back to her without her wanting them to: muffled moans, Damon’s hoarse voice saying Aria’s name, the sound of the girl’s body slamming against the thin wall that separated their rooms. At first, it had been torture. Then the torment had turned into a slow poison, seeping into her veins until it became an addiction she couldn’t shake.

But now, away from the mansion, away from them… perhaps she could have a few nights of peace. Some rest. Some silence.

Sighing again, she lifted her suitcase with supernatural ease and crossed the room. Her footsteps echoed down the icy hallway, each sound seeming heavier than the last. The torches attached to the walls cast long shadows, as if the mansion itself were mocking her.

Halfway there, she found Aria.

The young woman stood still, as if she had been waiting for her. Her simple dress contrasted with her shy but determined expression. When she saw Ester, her eyes lit up, and she bowed her head slightly in respect.

“I… I heard you’re traveling,” Aria said, her voice sweet and hesitant. “In the meantime, I’ll take over your duties…”

Ester didn’t stop walking. The heels of her boots echoed rhythmically against the marble, until she simply replied, without even looking at the other woman:

“Have a good time with the incubus.”

Aria paled, her mouth half-open as if to protest, but Ester didn’t give her the chance. She walked past her without a second’s hesitation, without turning her head. The young woman stayed behind, swallowing words that would never be heard.

The cool air of the mansion’s open courtyard enveloped her as she walked through the main doors. The carriage was already prepared, its somber, solid colors reflecting the grandeur of Countess Elizabeth’s coat of arms. Two black horses whinnied softly, their hooves pounding against the stone floor.

Garrick, the older knight, stood, gripping the reins firmly. His gaze immediately turned to Ester, and he inclined his head in silent reverence. Beside him, seated on the edge of the carriage, Caelan adjusted his leather gloves. Young, but as rigid as his companion, he limited himself to a curt nod when Ester’s red eyes met his.

She took a deep breath. The presence of the two knights was a reminder that, despite the discomfort of this mission, at least she would have reliable soldiers around her—men who would follow orders without question, who would not test her patience.

“Have a good journey,” she said in a low, almost emotionless voice.

Garrick responded with a brief, restrained smile; Caelan merely nodded.

Ester opened the carriage door. The interior was spacious, lined in dark velvet, the windows covered by heavy curtains. For a second, she savored the thought of sitting there, closing her eyes, and finally allowing herself to drift off into the silence of sleep.

But the world wouldn’t grant her that peace.

As soon as she took the first step inside, Ester’s entire body froze.

There, leaning back in one of the seats, was Damon. The spear rested in his arms, as if it were a lover. His eyes were closed, his features relaxed, almost serene—a sight so out of place that for a moment Ester wondered if it were some trick of her tired mind.

But it wasn’t. He was there. Alive, insolent, breathing the same air as her.

Anger surged first, a hot wave rising in her throat, burning like fire beneath her cold skin. Her heart raced at a rate she hated to feel, and her fingers tightened on the suitcase, as if they wanted to crush the wooden handle.

“…” No words came out.

The silence of the carriage seemed to mock her. Damon remained motionless, as if asleep. But Esther knew better. She knew this was a game, another of the many games he loved to play. Pretending to be harmless, resting like a docile animal, just to tease her without moving a muscle.

She took a deep breath, controlling the urge to turn on her heel and simply abandon the journey.

But she couldn’t.

Elizabeth. Of course.

Realization fell upon her like a cold blade: this was the piece the Countess had moved on the board. Sending Ester alone would be predictable. Sending Ester with Damon… it was a spectacle.

Ester’s lips curved into a cold, humorless smile.

“So that’s it…” she murmured to herself.

With a controlled movement, she lifted her suitcase and placed it on the seat opposite his. Then she stepped inside and closed the door firmly behind her.

The enclosed space intensified Damon’s presence. His scent—a barely perceptible mixture of iron, sweat, and something warmer, intoxicating—filled the air. Ester felt the muscles in her entire body tense, as if every fiber were ready to react.

Her eyes fixed on him, hard, cold, waiting for him to open his.

And as if answering an invisible call, Damon took a deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. The crimson color of his irises shone, laden with laziness and malice. A lazy smile formed on his lips when he realized who stood before him.

“Ah…” His voice was low, drawn out. “So you’re my traveling companion.”

Ester didn’t answer. She just stared at him, her red eyes burning with suppressed fury.

Damon sat up straighter in his seat, still clutching his spear, and tilted his head as if observing her with genuine curiosity.

“How unlucky for you, hm?” he said, his smile growing. “Entire days locked up with me, with no one to save your icy sanctity.”

Ester’s hands trembled for a moment, but she didn’t let him see it. She crossed her legs and leaned stiffly against the upholstery, as if she were indifferent.

“If you open your mouth too much, Damon, I’ll throw you out of the carriage.” Her voice was low, controlled, but laced with venom.

He chuckled softly, a husky sound that made her skin crawl against her will.

“Ah, Ester…” he said, closing his eyes again, as if he’d won the conversation. “We’ve barely left, and you’re already threatening me. It’s going to be a delightful trip.”

Ester’s heart pounded. On the outside, she was the unbreakable statue, the Countess’s cold weapon. But inside, she knew Elizabeth had planned something bigger. These days together would be more than just a mission.

They would be a test.

And, perhaps, a massacre.

The carriage began to move, the horses pulling the wheels along the stone road. Ester looked out the window, watching the mansion’s walls recede. Part of her sighed with relief at leaving the cursed nights behind. Another part… felt the suffocating weight of being locked in a narrow space with the same demon that haunted her dreams and nightmares.

And Damon, leaning back in his seat, was still smiling.

As if he knew exactly what was coming.

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